Have I Told You?
by Resting-Madness
Summary: It's not forbidden, it's just hidden. They'll tell the others, maybe after the holiday season. But, for now, Squall and Irvine are just happy to be in bed, underneath the mistle toe. One shot.


Squall was glad for the work- he really was! It kept him from getting distracted with things that made him uncomfortably move, lest it make his thoughts known to onlookers that he, Squall Leonhart, Balamb Garden's biggest frostbite, has desires.

The pen in his hand paused over the day's paperwork. He remembered, like flurries of snow falling from the sky in the sweep of wind, what Irvine's touch was like that first time, landing all over his body. He wanted him bare, heavy breathing, and wet. His biting gaze, his erected personal barriers, his body... Squall shifts uncomfortably in his seat, cursing himself for being this distracted, when he was telling himself not to be.

But those first few moments came back to him again, and they are whispering in his ear with a gleeful tone. "You get to see him tonight". He'd planned to, with some half-assed conversation in mind, sincere as it was, having a discussion on Christmas Eve plans was the last thing on his mind.

_'Damn it, Irvine... you did this to me.'_ And he felt a pang of need to resist the fact that he wanted to smile over being glad the thing done to him could even be there.

Irvine's hands were so ghostly good over his naked skin; the sharpshooter's body heat was off the charts of Galbadian weather reports, and it melted his soul hearing his name spoken by that Galbadian drawl of Irvine's.

He had to wonder about that accent sometimes; Galbadians are so trendy, that the moment they get the chance to dress down, they end up looking like Irvine... dressed to the nines and putting on a show. Their dress code seems to change with the seasons, because he could have sworn one year when they turned 20 Irvine was not dressed as a cowboy, but instead a typical young man in a solid blue t-shirt and blue jeans- though, he kept the hat.

Irvine let him wear his hat their first night together at age 19, before he went back to his own Garden, and before he officially started thinking of the smiling cowboy as a lover. He laid back on the bed, gestured for Squall with a wanton finger to join him there and no sooner after he did was the beloved hat set down atop his head.

Squall's eyes closed in remembrance of Irvine's appearance. He had never really studied the man, to be honest, he's never really studied anyone; keep your eyes forward and your attention straight and to yourself; you'll be alright. But he looked at Irvine then. His beautiful features of delicate curves without being feminine, that Chesire cat mouth of his always smirking as though he's as pleased as a cat with a mouse between its fangs. His eyes are so seizing, the blue like the rolling color of the ocean both blue and greenish, are woven together like the shallows before it reaches its deepest blue depths.

Sliding his seat out from beneath the desk, he moves the gather of papers in his hand into a metal stack of drawers. Closing the filing cabinet, he locks it back with the key he leaves in the tiny tumbler lock, then removing it, he stuffs it into his pocket. This simple movement reminded him of his issue again, and he schooled it away while returning to his desk.

Galbadia Garden will be here within the hour, and with it, Irvine Kinneas. He said he was gonna stay at the hotel since his room in Garden is shared with another arms enthusiast. Squall didn't mind the informal place to speak, because he's only using the matter as a front to his real intentions.

And he's no fool. He knows that Irvine knows what this meeting is really all about. Sighing in agony, he unlatches the buckle that holds his red belts of ammo around his hips. Last thing he needs is to have those rubbing against his crotch in the same light teases that Irvine's fingers had. Squall still shudders when hearing that whisper... "You don't like me?" in his ear.

He honestly didn't know how he felt about the male at the time it had happened. He's been abducted from Garden on the night of his birthday, and forced into this week long road trip with the sneaky cowboy. To say he was enraged at the time was putting it mildly, he was going to kill him, call the police and explain that he'd been abducted and was defending himself which resulted in Irvine's death.

But on the fourth day... he was into the rest and relaxation. He didn't want to be Headmaster of Balamb Garden, it was forced on him. And until Edea Kramer, their Matron, comes back from burying Cid Kramer; Balamb Garden's former headmaster, to relieve him of this duty, he's stuck. Now... he's got Irvine to relieve the pressure. And it's good. So good.

He'd asked him if he didn't like him, and he wasn't wrong to ask, at the time... but he doesn't feel that way any longer. And when he'd felt those fingers circling his bulge around and around, while holding him so his back rest against the cowboy's chest, he didn't feel disinterest or displeasure so much then either.

But, Irvine did nothing beyond peak his interest in that hotel room back then with that gesturing finger; he, Squall, got into the bed by choice; and his breath was taken away when his weight leaned into the sniper beneath him.

He's never been that personal with someone before. It was really too much all at once. When they were rolled over, he felt heady from the make-out, and drunken from the touches. He hasn't been touched... Hyne, not by anyone- including himself. His pleasure was honest and true that afternoon on that hotel bed in Dollet. No barriers between them, no holding back.

And since then, he's ached for that connection. Sending each other emails, sometimes hand-written letters were only a means of flirting with each other's company through normal conversation, but just knowing it was something to one by the other seemed akin to flirting with them. And the flirting was happily received.

He's anticipating this so much, he almost hopes they can skip the Christmas Eve party.

In the distance Squall can hear the metal ramp sliding into place to connect the three schools. Trabia's newly built Garden arrived ten minutes ago, and all the cadets are buzzing about this and that with their abroad best friend Selphie.

Will Irvine chat him up? Or will he work the room, avoiding him... saving it all for later.

"Shit." He muttered when entering the bathroom. Thankfully, he caught himself before a mess was made in his pants.

...

Well, he was somewhat right about the situation. Irvine joked and kidded with everyone; speaking to Squall only if someone else were near enough that it didn't seem a special attention. It wasn't anything special, just conversational chit-chat.

Zell was arm wrestling other students for fun, and a little profit. Quistis was discussing something with Selphie who was jumping enthusiastically before her. Seifer was standing in the corner of the room by the balcony having a smoke, and Rinoa was out on the floor cutting-rug-with some random cadet from Trabia.

By the end of the evening, the two of them got a car and headed out to Balamb Town's hotel. The drive was pleasant... somewhat. If you've never heard Irvine singing Christmas jingles on the radio, consider yourself lucky. In spite of several broken notes, Squall smiled at the sweetness of the moment. He imagined someday they'd be singing together, when they've been together for a while and no longer have the need to hold anything back, because they won't feel that they'll be hurt- at least on Squall's end. He doesn't imagine Irvine being reserved with anyone about anything. It's a dangerous trait, and in some ways refreshing.

A low whistle called him from his thoughts, and he sees that Irvine's looking out the window.

"Aheh, check out Balamb decking the halls." He smiles warmly at Squall, cocking his head a second, as if in thought. "A gil eighty five, that's the best lighting." And by that comment, he meant Christmas lights.

Unsure of what to say, though pleased enough to look away, he says in mock snide. "Whatever."

The borrowed car parks in the lot by the dock, and the two depart for the hotel up the hill. Irvine took in the scenery around town. The lit up street lights and trees, wreaths and strands of garland here and there, little light-up signs that say MERRY CHRISTMAS or HAPPY HOLIDAYS in shop windows.

Even the hotel is decorated. Lavishly at that. It's nice enough to make a holiday card photo, with it as your background. There're even presents under the tree. It would seem they're for the hotel staff, Secret Santa-style.

_'It looks like someone vomited Christmas in here.'_ Squall notes to himself while following Irvine up to his rented room.

The door closed behind them with a sound thwack! Irvine spun on his heels, and in one quick jerk from his grabbing Squall around his lower back, he presses his lips to the male's sharing a fevered kisses with him. Breaking for the sake of returning their stolen breaths; Squall feels something square press into his hand.

Looking down; his tongue absently left his mouth in little flicks, as if to intake the remnants of the kiss onto his tongue to down inside his mouth. "What's this?" He holds the box up, following Irvine farther into the room.

"Merry Christmas... and since I'm not one for tradition, you can open it to see." He sits on the bed, taking in the holiday lights around the room, and the mistletoe, other various items that embed the holiday feeling.

Squall joined him without a second thought to it. When he thought to much, he felt awkward and bulky in the male's ease. It was better to "ride the mood" as Zell once put it. Removing the ribbon on the simple black box; he missed Irvine draw in a breath as though he were steadying nerves of curiosity. You never knew with Squall Leonhart, one minute he could be into you, the next... well, you're just another set of humanity that go hold up a crumbling wall. At least that's the rumor.

Irvine doesn't buy into it; he just knows that sometimes a one time thing, is a one time thing. He doesn't wanna take the chance and offend. But he can't stop thinking about him. His heart always jumped when he saw that he's gotten mail from him. He'd remove the item from mail pick up, and bring it out to the yard and just occupy the grass while Squall's written or typed presence occupied him.

He loves this man. He desires, and is pleased by him. Someday he'd like to be with him, as more than a friend and correspondent. Laying back on the bed, he runs circles around Squall's upper back with his fingertips.

Squall put up a good front that it wasn't making him shiver inside; and swell below the belt while he removed a silver piece of metal from the box. "Its a shotgun pendant. I don't get it." He looks over his shoulder, daring a glance at that handsome face. Thankfully his eyes are closed; unknown to Squall, that its because he's savouring the contact.

"I noticed the charm on your Gunblade's keychain. I thought you'd like to stick it with it."

Squall snorts, then lays down beside the male. "Are you trying to shoot my lion, Kinneas?" He turns the item over in his finger's grasp.

It wasn't even meant to be sexual, but Squall's voice just rubbed him that way when they're alone. It grabbed him hard enough to use as a weapon, and he'd welcome the sword fight.

"Thank you. I'll put it on when I get back to Garden."

"Alright," Closing his eyes, he asks. "You can gimme mine." He cups his hands together and waits.

Squall wondered if he could be so bold as to take the male's cupped hands and place them right around his bulge. But, he simply swallowed down the vulgar act, and said. "I didn't get you anything."

Opening his eyes, he asks. "Seriously?"

Touching Irvine's tresses, he nods.

"Well, it's been good seein' ya." He sits up, and teases that he's kicking Squall out of the room. "You know where the door is."

"Oh, shut up." He climbs on top of him.

Hips down, hands pinned beside of the cowboy's head, Squall just looks down at his handsome face. Irvine is looking back up into his gaze with thoughtful lust. His secret love was waiting for something to happen, but Squall just froze. He's never been good at being sexy, people just spew out that they find him sexy and he's never actually doing anything! But he isn't deaf to the cadet's whispers.

Leaning forward, he kisses Irvine tenderly on the forehead then upon his neck. A breath shot from his mouth like a bullet when the rough pad of Irvine's thumb brushed the side of neck at the hairline.

"I think we're obliged to obey the traditions in this case." Irvine nods to the head of the bed, where a sprig of mistletoe rests in the center or the wooden headboard.

Irvine's hands rest snuggly on the back of Squall's head, and he pulls him down so their lips meet just as softly as Squall had kissed his forehead. With a patterned push and pull their lip lock ensues, Irvine knew the kiss would remain so his hands glide down the contours of Squall's back until they're resting on his hips, and once there, he instructs them to roll around his lap in a firm drop of down and around.

The sensual sensation was such a jolt up Squall's spine, he lurched forward which popped his forehead against Irvine's.

The sharpshooter chuckled merrily before mauling kisses from the lion. His awkwardness in certain situations is just divine. It really is! And it's one of those sweet parts of Squall he sort of hoped to have only to himself for as long as he can have it.

Hyne, they're both sick with need. The bed shook like it were convulsing from their hard dry hump; a bell jingled with each thump, bump, bump, bump of the bed against the floor. They could no longer kiss, their grit teeth and grunted expressions of pleasure became too much to be coherent for that sort of thing. And their back arched climax, leaving them drooped in a heap on the bedding.

The two snicker at how sad their urgency for each other had gotten over time; Irvine rolls onto his side, cupping Squall's cheek with his hand and he kissed that breathless, abused mouth with passionate care. "Can I unwrap you?" He asks, with a finger tracing the beautiful male's jawline.

Unsure of how his voice will come out, he nods.

Irvine set to work by first getting between Squall's knees, so that the underside of his knees are resting on his shoulders; since they were laying sideways on the bed, he wanted to right them, and he climbed onto the bed to lay them long-ways, bringing Squall with him by having his body twist to correction with his movement.

From there, he lowered his face to Squall's lap to pepper kisses across his lap and inner thighs; marveling in the rich scent encasing the area from Squall's release. He popped the clothed lump into his mouth, sucking down on it like he would a scoop of ice cream. Then he removed himself from the area, to undo the zipper and fly. Pulling down the messy clothing, he tugged them completely free from Squall's person before bringing his mouth down over the sticky sagging piece of meat.

The friction from his stroking hand, up and down, up and down in rapid to languid jerks, heats the stickiness to a slickened from-scratch lubricant, making the slide smooth and good; Squall writhed and bucked helplessly within the grasp, more so when Irvine's cheeks puffed around the shaft, and his tongue ran little circles around the head, before the tip lapped mercilessly at the slit.

Squall moaned with abandon, when Irvine's head bobbed up and down his shaft while his clamped hand pumped over any part of him left uncovered by the mouth. When he found himself fully erect, he sat up to remove his sweatshirt and bare everything to the cowboy. He watches with fascination at the goings on about his nether region, humming at the satisfied rolls of pleasure dashing through him at the pace of his heartbeat.

"Get undressed." He ordered, releasing the grip he has in the male's hair.

Unzipping the black ribbed shirt, he smiles at Squall when seeing him swallow at the look of his neck just past the collar of his shirt. He closed his eyes to enjoy the touch placed right there. He turned his head, kissing the palm then exposed to him. Removing his shirt, he slips out of jeans with as much show as he had his shirt. Just unzipping it, brushing himself with his hand, giving a few tugs to re-erect himself.

That little move had Squall pouncing on the man before him, and he spread his knees apart until his entrance was exposed to him. To an onlooker, it would seem lewd and almost too vulgar, but for the two concerned it was a simple act of desire the best way it can be gotten. No hesitation, no second guesses, just going in.

And his tongue traced and dipped into that entrance, until it wanted something a bit more solid, in which he stuck his finger inside. He lubed it with the release Irvine had on himself, from himself; he'd been jerking the male while he lapped at his private place. And now he's tucking and scissoring around inside.

His mouth is making use of itself against the bends of Irvine's abdomen. He's come to appreciate the male's strong lean physique for what it is. And he'd kind of hoped, despite Irvine's reputation, that its really something that only he has seen. The strength in that slim body, the shape of his muscles. The color of his skin beneath that swarm of clothing he wears... All this knowledge, he secretly likes to think of as his own.

Removing his fingers, he positioned himself at the entrance and eased in with a slow deep slide, all the way to the base then he rest there, on top of Irvine, to kiss him and taste him; the sweets he ate at the party lingered there.

Its those lingering threads that make the moments so memorable; the lingering touches to each other, the tastes, their scent becoming familiar as they go on experiencing each other now and then. Irvine sucked in a breath from the faintest clutching against his shoulder before the hand moved away and down between their thighs.

Squall keeps his hips frozen, but his hand palms and kneads at Irvine's sacks with attentive practice; while Irvine arched and groaned, Squall sucked at the pulse points on his neck, laying a single lick against the bobbing adam's apple. His heated sigh fell into the pillow, when Irvine rocked his hips forward and back into the tiny space left between them to move.

Both closed their eyes, enjoying the gentle rocking going on over the meager two inches of space to move. Their kiss mimics the pace of Irvine's rocking, which is timing itself with Squall's kneading. When the need for air came up, the two nuzzle their faces together like a couple of animals just being sweet on each other.

The wagging of Irvine's ignored erection catches their eyes, and they watch in muted fascination of its movement up and down between them; Squall leaves the male's sacks to their own devices and latches on to the stick of meat, rolling over so that's fully on top of Irvine.

Picking the kiss up where it left off; now he moves his hips, slow enough that a snail would be impressed with it. Irvine's moan egged him on, and he deepened his movements forward... then back... The hand tucked between them is rubbing up and down against the underside of his lover's pinned sex. Squall hummed at the light massaging his scalp is getting, and the hard rake up his shoulder blades and between them.

He wanted to go slow, and drag the pleasure through every living second of it, but that hiss from Irvine when he hit his sweet spot was too much to resist. He rode himself into that ocean like a submarine diving or a torpedo in launch. His hard yo-yoing movement had Irvine clamping his ankles around his lower back to have something solid to hold onto.

The sniper slammed his hips forward when Squall's rubbing gripped momentarily to the base of his cock. The moist sounds in the air tried to out-do each other, from the connection at the mouth, and the connection at the hips. The bells jingling weren't missed as the bed trembled and banged with the quickening of their movement.

Their bodies shook as much as the bed, their bones feeling the pleasure to the marrow; once sweet and rich became tantric and pawing; their kisses were snippy and biting moving from mouth the flesh anywhere it could reach.

Hyne, the very being of this all seemed so alive. Their skin, hair, breath, everything! It all wanted in, and it all joined in; grinding and bouncing, sliding and mashing. The little rivers formulating in the dip of Irvine's upper torso ran over onto the bed, heating to move into a puddle.

Squall's hand brushed it over his lover's chest, rubbing it into his skin, pleasuring his protruded nipple with the slickness flickering over and against it. Irvine arched into the tongue that came to lick it clean. Nipping at the nipple, Squall then straightens up, grabbing Irvine's hips tightly.

The briefest eye contact stole their breath away, and they closed their eyes to the pleasure before they were consumed. But the movement returned from its brief slow down and the jingling mistletoe sounded away while Squall gave Irvine a thorough pounding, like a gattling gun; and the spray of disgarded shells the flail of release from his lover's sex running over with wild abandon within Squall's grasp.

Lowering Irvine's hips to the bed, he jerked him forward so that he's now seated on his lap, at which point he moves forward so the cowboy's back slams aggressively to the headboard and Squall attacked his lover's mouth with animal need.

Irvine growled in heat biting back, while lifting and dropping his hips; the left of his two long legs drapes over Squall's shoulder, the other around his lover's lower back. He got better drive going when raising his arms over his head to grab the wooden frame behind him.

Squall groaned over a mouthful of flesh, parting his thighs more to be moved just as deeply over as Irvine is bouncing. They felt high when the pleasure just rose like someone threw gasoline on them and a match.

They shared the faintest smile with each other when they broke their kiss. And Squall chuckled when the tip of his nose licked. Thrusting forward into Irvine's drop, he knew they were close when the sniper whispered his name.

The bed rattling, their breaths short and gone, hearts pounding like the world's largest drum, bodies slick with sweat and heat, they cried out over all the noise of Balamb Town in release.

A bit embarrassed over it all, the two snicker while swapping smooches and readjusting so they're laying comfortably together in a hold.

Reaching for the decoration, Irvine studies the mistletoe. "It's just some bells, huh..."

"Shouldn't that not count then?"

"Hmm..." Returning the trinket to the little tack that held it up, he reaches for the beside table. "Cake?"

He opens a box with the hotel's logo on it. Inside is a cranberry crumb cake, two little squares that are a mouthful is you're not into being fancy. Taking the offering into his mouth, Squall chews it thoughtfully, watching Irvine's jaw work over his own piece.

He wanted to tell him to stay. Not to return to Galbadia. But he doesn't. He just holds the male tighter and closes his eyes to pretend that he's already agreed, to just stay and be his. Not knowing, that while Irvine held him, brushing the pad of his thumb along his hairline, that he was dreaming of the same thing.

...

Authors Note: One shots... I just want more ahaha. And I usually do them and delete them, hopefully I won't do the same to this. Its mostly because it all seems so set up and corny, but that's life when you just wanna watch people gettin' it on, right? I think so. I did this so long ago. I hope it wasn't crap or confusing. Thanks for reading.

I hope you enjoyed it, comment if you like I appreciate it.

Happy Holidays!


End file.
